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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26685772">Sweet Caroline</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/poplin/pseuds/poplin'>poplin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Team Fortress 2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:42:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>925</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26685772</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/poplin/pseuds/poplin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Small story written based on the song Sweet Caroline. </p><p>Mayor Mike from Teufort and associates are corrupt as fuck and the mercenaries decide to end it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Sweet Caroline</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was written as a bit of a waming up for a bigger piece I'm writing, so don't expect it to be good xD</p><p>This was originally written with my OC's in mind [Eugene, René, and John] but i changed their names to the regular tf2 class names, but beware that some things may be a little off with TF2's canon because of this.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="zw-paragraph">Lying flat on his stomach on top of one of the city's office buildings, Sniper kept his eye on the conference hall through his rifle's scope. He quickly checked his watch with a quick side glance.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  <strong> <em>23.58</em></strong>
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">It wouldn't be long until Sniper's teammates would start. He kept his scope fixated on Spy, who was making his way towards the podium. The spook had easily blended in among the crowd, as expected, and with a few inconspicuous hand gestures, marked the targets they were aiming to get rid of tonight.</p><p class="zw-paragraph"> </p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  <em> <strong>23.59</strong> </em>
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  <strong>  </strong>
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">Spy climbed upon the podium. The other musicians, all fellow mercenaries, had been stationed already, waiting for Spy. The crowd was a bit rowdy, but their attention swiftly moved to the stage as the Frenchman tapped the microphone and had asked for everyone's attention.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"This song is dedicated to our dear Mayor Mike, a classic from his hometown: New York." he announced.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  <em> <strong>00.00</strong> </em>
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"It's showtime..." Sniper mumbled to himself, shifting his scope from Spy to the mayor, his first target, as the band started playing.  </p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph"><em>Where it began, I can't begin to knowing</em> <br class="zw-br"/><em>But then I know it's growing strong</em></p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">As Spy sang the first lines of <em>Sweet Caroline</em>, the crowd moved themselves to their seats. It prompted a small smirk on Sniper's face, after all, the targets that are sitting down are a lot easier to shoot than the ones that constantly moved.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph"><em>Was in the spring</em> <br class="zw-br"/><em>And spring became the summer</em> <br class="zw-br"/><em>Who'd have believed you'd come along</em></p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">Spy kept his eyes fixated on the Mayor, and his hands on his back, ready to grab his revolver if things would escalate.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph"><em>Hands, touching hands</em> <br class="zw-br"/><em>Reaching out, touching me, touching you</em></p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">Laying his index finger on the trigger of his WA2000 sniper rifle, Sniper was ready to take his shot.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  <em>Sweet Caroline</em>
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  <strong>Bang! Bang! Blam!</strong>
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">Three consecutive shots were fired at the mayor in time with the song's trombone. The crowd became obstreperous, people were screaming, and running around like chickens without heads. A distressing sight to see for most, but for the mercenaries it was just like a regular Saturday evening. René hadn't flinched at the shots, and continued to sing as if nothing had happened.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph"><em>Good times never seemed so good</em> <br class="zw-br"/><em>I've been inclined</em></p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">Sniper couldn't shoot the next target on the sound of the trombone this time. With everyone running around the hall, it had become difficult for him to locate his next target: the mayor's secretary.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph"><em>To believe they never would</em> <br class="zw-br"/><em>But now I</em></p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">Fortunately, the song hasn't ended yet, and the Australian knew damn well that these weren't the only two moments in the song with those beautiful trombone notes.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph"><em>Look at the night and it don't seem so lonely</em> <br class="zw-br"/><em>We filled it up with only two</em></p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">The rifle's scope darted to one of the hall's emergency exit doors. A short lady, dressed in blue and black was making an attempt to push the door open, with no luck. Ms. Pauling wanted to make sure no targets or guests could flee the hall until the song was over. During the long and, quite frankly, tedious speeches Engineer managed to install automatic locks on every single door.</p><p class="zw-paragraph"> </p><p class="zw-paragraph"><em>And when I hurt</em> <br class="zw-br"/><em>Hurting runs off my shoulders</em></p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  <em>How can I hurt when holding you</em>
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"Found ya..." Sniper mumbled to himself, and lined up his reticle with the back of her head.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph"><em>One, touching one</em> <br class="zw-br"/><em>Reaching out, touching me, touching you</em></p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">Sniper's index finger brushed against the trigger once again, waiting for Soldier to play those oh so familiar notes.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  <em>Sweet Caroline</em>
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  <em>  </em>
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  <strong>Bang! Blam! Bang!</strong>
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">Three bullets hit the secretary, one in her head, the other two in her back.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph"><em>Good times never seemed so good</em> <br class="zw-br"/><em>I've been inclined</em></p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"Two down, one to go..." the bushman whispered.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph"><em>To believe they never would</em> <br class="zw-br"/><em>Oh no, no</em></p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">Sniper took it upon himself to reload his rifle during the instrumental part of the song. The last target only needed three bullets, just like the ones before him. However, he loaded in six of them anyway, he never knew when he might need more.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">While the band calmly kept playing, Spy noticed that one of the guests was, unlike the other attendees, making his way towards the stage. Spy knew the man had to have a gun on him, and jumped off to face him. As the guest approached, he pulled his revolver and immediately shot the man's hand when he attempted to reach for his firearm.  He grabbed the man by his hair, and shoved the revolver into his mouth.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  <em>Sweet Caroline</em>
</p><p class="zw-paragraph"> </p><p class="zw-paragraph">He continued to sing...</p><p class="zw-paragraph"> </p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  <strong>Bang! Bang! Bang!</strong>
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">...and shot the man three times.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  <em>Good times never seemed so good</em>
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"Ya sure love eating lead dont'cha..." Sniper, who had seen the whole ordeal go down, muttered to himself, and chuckled softly.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">Their last target had tried to hide himself under the bar, not far from where Spy was standing. Sniper's scope panned over to the unsuspecting man.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  <em>Sweet Caroline</em>
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  <strong>Blam! Bang! Bang!</strong>
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">The man's now dead body flopped to the side.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  <em>I believe they never could</em>
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">To make sure no one else had the idea of pulling a gun on Spy or any of his other teammates, Sniper kept his rifle aimed at the hall.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph"><em>Sweet Caroline</em> <br class="zw-br"/><em>Good times never seemed so good</em></p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">As Spy ended the song, the doors of the hall, including the emergency exits, all opened at once.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p>"Bloody hell I love this song...." the Australian snickered as he started packing his stuff, ready to take his leave.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The WA2000 Sniper uses is similair to the hitman's heatmaker in game. IRL, this rifle is a semi-automatic rifle and doesn't need a bolt action after every shot. This rifle can hold up to 6 bullets before needing to be reloaded.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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